“It was an ideal job for me, strawberry picking, as it allowed me to do most of what
I’d have spent the summer doing in my bedroom but with the added bonuses of pay,
exercise and sunshine. It also meant that I could enjoy the weather and not grow
fatter, so that, hopefully, I would not be completely ignored by the girls when I went
back to Uni.
“It was perfect- I could work while listening to music, then read graphic novels at
breaks and on the train. And it meant I could do these things in almost complete
isolation and not be bothered by my younger siblings or my meddling mother as I
would be if I were at home. In the field I was alone with whatever music I fancied
listening to. And this to me was absolute bliss.
“I wasn’t so keen on strawberries at the time. I’d never been especially bothered by
them growing up and had made the mistake of eating an entire can on my Duke of
Edinburgh before downing the juice and feeling very sick indeed. An episode that
had put me off them completely and meant I was in no danger of eating away at my
earnings before I was even given them.
“I got the job down to a fine art, working along each row, carefully removing the
strawberries and filling the punnets, my hands moving in time to whatever tune I was
listening to, speeding up and slowing down with the tempo, my hands always being
careful not to squeeze the berries too hard and squish them.
“I first noticed her while listening to Mogwai. It must have been during the build-up
because it was her singing that I noticed. I pressed pause but didn’t dare look up in
case she noticed and stopped. Instead I listened to her voice, not beautiful exactly,
nor perfect, but happy and assured, as it wandered across and filled my ears. She
was singing a repetitive tune that changed slightly each time and this intrigued me
enough that I removed my earphones in order to hear this impromptu concert all the
better.
“After a few minutes, however, she stopped. In my disappointment I couldn’t help
but look up and over at her.
“Before me was this really pretty girl that I’d somehow missed up until then. ‘Far too
pretty for me,’ was my first thought. There were, after all, more attractive (and more
confident) guys on the farm, who’d been going around without tops on. I figured they
would have more chance with her. Certainly they were more likely to talk to her.
“She had short red hair framing her face that had gone pink in the sun. And she was
wearing a top that was cream and decorated with brown v-shaped speckles- a song
bird, for sure.
“She was also wearing a cheeky smile. No doubt at the thought of what she was
about to do as it was replaced by the smug look of a cat slurping away at its cream
once she had picked a strawberry and placed it on her tongue. Her eyes became
wide as she chewed it slowly while placing a few more strawberries in her punnet.
Then she closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her face as she swallowed.
“Well I was hooked. My usually high productivity ceased altogether as I watched this
beautiful thief stealing (from herself partly) as she earned, grinning as she did so.
“Gradually I started to pick again, my head bobbing up and down watching her eat
one or two more strawberries, a faraway dreamy look appearing on her face.
“I was taking no care at all with my picking now, missing lots of strawberries
altogether and bruising many of those I did pick, my grip becoming careless and
heavy.
“My professionalism and my summer plans fell apart as I stared shamelessly at this
beguiling young woman while hoping that I might turn into a strawberry in her path
and be lucky enough to feel her touch, teeth and tongue against my body. I was
desperate to be consumed by her. The thought itself consumed me as I zoned out
completely and entered a dream involving her that was soon shattered when she
spoke to me.”
“It was the perfect summer job for me. I could lose myself in a field and indulge my
love of strawberries.
“I still remember my first one. I was about three or four and we were at my
grandparents' house for the day. While exploring their cottage I entered the kitchen
where my grandmother was preparing some strawberry involving dessert, I can’t
remember which. What I can remember is my inquisitive podgy little toddler face
looking up as my grandmother said, 'Cook’s perks,' and her hand came down from
on high and fed me my first round red ruby.
“The taste was amazing- the first sweet thing I can remember eating. And it was
naughty- a snack like this before dinner was forbidden and the two things combined
made me a fan for life. So much so I later started to dye my hair the same colour.
“I’d already seen him; we had all seen him sat on his own at breaks reading comics,
listening to his music while working, never looking up. It was like he thought he was
the only person on the farm. Mind you, I don’t suppose I was much different while
working- generally on my own soaking in weather and the surroundings, singing to
myself and popping the occasional berry in my mouth that would take me back to
stealing from punnets in the fridge over the years.
“Anyway, I’d seen this strange guy about the farm keeping himself to himself and
thought nothing more about him. I was initially more interested in these some of the
other guys who were working there. They were rather attractive but a bit loud and I
didn’t like the way they leered at me and the other girls, so I left them for other girls
to chase.
“Then one day I noticed that the quiet guy was picking opposite me and working with
ruthless efficiency as he listened to his music, filling his punnets with the crop while
resisting the lot! ‘Very strange indeed,’ I thought, before carrying on and forgetting he
was even there.
“Until, as I was singing to myself to pass the time, I spotted him removing his
earphones and hanging them over the collar of his blue and green striped t-shirt. I
didn’t dare look up at him or falter in my song in case he was doing what I thought he
might be and was listening in, as absurd as it seemed. Certainly he wasn’t looking at
me, probably his battries had died, I thought and carried on a little, singing the tune
I’d been making up as I went along and was repeating as I ran out of ideas, probably
a bit differently each time because I can’t sing.
“Thinking he must be getting bored if he was listening and becoming a bit self-
conscious because from the glance or two I took it looked like he was, the usual look
of musical concentration being present on his face, I stopped singing thinking he
would go back to his music.
“But he didn’t. He began watching me instead. At first I quite liked it- I mean, it’s
always nice for someone to notice you. And it was especially nice to be getting the
attention of a guy who never seemed to notice anyone at all; ever. Plus I didn’t think
he was bad looking or anything so I smiled a happy little smile at the situation while
enjoying one of the farm’s supreme strawberries.
“Then he kept on watching, his expression changing until he started to resemble a
salivating dog- his mouth open and his tongue almost hanging out! He looked like a
dopey idiot- a moron, actually, if I’m honest.
“Before too long it felt like he was boring two holes through my head and he was
making me feel the same way those other lads had- like I was a cheap commodity
that he was simply picturing naked and that that was all he cared for. And I’d been
hoping he was better than that.
“Quickly it got to a point where I had to say something.”
“Can I help you with anything?” Jane asked in her best stern lady voice.
Bill was taken aback, thinking, as so many guys had before while girl-watching, that
she had not seen what he was doing. Somewhere within his head Bill decided to
just deflect attention to her wrong-doing and asked, “Wouldn’t you rather have those
with cream?” while gesturing to a strawberry she had picked but not placed in a
punnet or her mouth.
And then he winked. A very quick wink, hardly noticeable in fact. He wasn’t sure
why and he would have started to panic but the deflection seemed to be working
as she was answering his question, even if her voice was still a bit curt, “I’m not
bothered. It’s enough of a treat to be eating them straight off the plant. And,
anyway, I like them with nothing on. No cream or sugar required, thank you.”
Then silence. Neither were sure what to do or say. The still summer day
surrounded them and seemed to suffocate where, shortly before, it had breathed life
into them both. Individually their minds raced, desperately seeking for something to
say.
Bill hoped Jane wouldn’t remember why she had initially spoken. But now that she
had conversed with this mysterious boy, however, (and about her great love too)
she wasn’t so bothered and would have been happy to chat if he would just say
something. Anything goddamnit. Maybe he hadn’t been worth knowing all along,
maybe he was just as vacant as the other lads working on the farm.
“Yes- they are rather good aren’t they?” Bill lied and he took a large strawberry in his
fingers, removed the stem and popped the entire thing in his mouth.
Jane perked up at this- “Yes! Sooo much better than the tasteless crap they
sell through the winter- this is where it’s at,” she said, gesturing around, “This is
strawberry heaven!”
“Hmmm,” he nodded in agreement, this strawberry tasting better than any he had
previously eaten, the juices pleasantly filling his mouth, surrounding his tongue and
coating it in flavour. Bill swallowed and wondered why he hadn’t been doing this all
along.
“Like summer concentrated into fruit,” he added, unsure quite where that had come
from before seeing her smile and becoming pleased that some sort of inner instinct
had taken over.
“It is! That’s what strawberries are precisely. They are summer, they encapsulate
the season, they’re the perfect accompaniment to a summer’s day, the way nature
intended, a gift from Mother Nature herself,” she rambled very quickly, jumping from
thought to thought while becoming more and more excitable.
And louder too. A distant supervisor yelled at them to get back to work and the pair,
looking a little sheepish, did so, occasionally glancing up at one another as they went
about the work that had unexpectedly brought them together, smiling in unison when
they did so.
“It was Bill that started it. I thought he might go back to his music but he began to
hum a song that was in the charts at the time. Which surprised me as he seemed
like someone who would take no notice of the charts and popular music.”
“I’m not sure exactly where I’d heard it- probably an advert. I certainly didn’t know
who it was by. The tune just popped into my head and I started to hum it. She
smiled her lovely broad smile and joined in.”
“I did. And we whiled away the afternoon singing different pop tunes together as we
picked strawberries, treating ourselves to one every so often.”
“Then we chatted on the way home and got to know each other a bit, didn’t we?”
“Yes. And that was the start of our first summer together.”
I’d have spent the summer doing in my bedroom but with the added bonuses of pay,
exercise and sunshine. It also meant that I could enjoy the weather and not grow
fatter, so that, hopefully, I would not be completely ignored by the girls when I went
back to Uni.
“It was perfect- I could work while listening to music, then read graphic novels at
breaks and on the train. And it meant I could do these things in almost complete
isolation and not be bothered by my younger siblings or my meddling mother as I
would be if I were at home. In the field I was alone with whatever music I fancied
listening to. And this to me was absolute bliss.
“I wasn’t so keen on strawberries at the time. I’d never been especially bothered by
them growing up and had made the mistake of eating an entire can on my Duke of
Edinburgh before downing the juice and feeling very sick indeed. An episode that
had put me off them completely and meant I was in no danger of eating away at my
earnings before I was even given them.
“I got the job down to a fine art, working along each row, carefully removing the
strawberries and filling the punnets, my hands moving in time to whatever tune I was
listening to, speeding up and slowing down with the tempo, my hands always being
careful not to squeeze the berries too hard and squish them.
“I first noticed her while listening to Mogwai. It must have been during the build-up
because it was her singing that I noticed. I pressed pause but didn’t dare look up in
case she noticed and stopped. Instead I listened to her voice, not beautiful exactly,
nor perfect, but happy and assured, as it wandered across and filled my ears. She
was singing a repetitive tune that changed slightly each time and this intrigued me
enough that I removed my earphones in order to hear this impromptu concert all the
better.
“After a few minutes, however, she stopped. In my disappointment I couldn’t help
but look up and over at her.
“Before me was this really pretty girl that I’d somehow missed up until then. ‘Far too
pretty for me,’ was my first thought. There were, after all, more attractive (and more
confident) guys on the farm, who’d been going around without tops on. I figured they
would have more chance with her. Certainly they were more likely to talk to her.
“She had short red hair framing her face that had gone pink in the sun. And she was
wearing a top that was cream and decorated with brown v-shaped speckles- a song
bird, for sure.
“She was also wearing a cheeky smile. No doubt at the thought of what she was
about to do as it was replaced by the smug look of a cat slurping away at its cream
once she had picked a strawberry and placed it on her tongue. Her eyes became
wide as she chewed it slowly while placing a few more strawberries in her punnet.
Then she closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her face as she swallowed.
“Well I was hooked. My usually high productivity ceased altogether as I watched this
beautiful thief stealing (from herself partly) as she earned, grinning as she did so.
“Gradually I started to pick again, my head bobbing up and down watching her eat
one or two more strawberries, a faraway dreamy look appearing on her face.
“I was taking no care at all with my picking now, missing lots of strawberries
altogether and bruising many of those I did pick, my grip becoming careless and
heavy.
“My professionalism and my summer plans fell apart as I stared shamelessly at this
beguiling young woman while hoping that I might turn into a strawberry in her path
and be lucky enough to feel her touch, teeth and tongue against my body. I was
desperate to be consumed by her. The thought itself consumed me as I zoned out
completely and entered a dream involving her that was soon shattered when she
spoke to me.”
*
“It was the perfect summer job for me. I could lose myself in a field and indulge my
love of strawberries.
“I still remember my first one. I was about three or four and we were at my
grandparents' house for the day. While exploring their cottage I entered the kitchen
where my grandmother was preparing some strawberry involving dessert, I can’t
remember which. What I can remember is my inquisitive podgy little toddler face
looking up as my grandmother said, 'Cook’s perks,' and her hand came down from
on high and fed me my first round red ruby.
“The taste was amazing- the first sweet thing I can remember eating. And it was
naughty- a snack like this before dinner was forbidden and the two things combined
made me a fan for life. So much so I later started to dye my hair the same colour.
“I’d already seen him; we had all seen him sat on his own at breaks reading comics,
listening to his music while working, never looking up. It was like he thought he was
the only person on the farm. Mind you, I don’t suppose I was much different while
working- generally on my own soaking in weather and the surroundings, singing to
myself and popping the occasional berry in my mouth that would take me back to
stealing from punnets in the fridge over the years.
“Anyway, I’d seen this strange guy about the farm keeping himself to himself and
thought nothing more about him. I was initially more interested in these some of the
other guys who were working there. They were rather attractive but a bit loud and I
didn’t like the way they leered at me and the other girls, so I left them for other girls
to chase.
“Then one day I noticed that the quiet guy was picking opposite me and working with
ruthless efficiency as he listened to his music, filling his punnets with the crop while
resisting the lot! ‘Very strange indeed,’ I thought, before carrying on and forgetting he
was even there.
“Until, as I was singing to myself to pass the time, I spotted him removing his
earphones and hanging them over the collar of his blue and green striped t-shirt. I
didn’t dare look up at him or falter in my song in case he was doing what I thought he
might be and was listening in, as absurd as it seemed. Certainly he wasn’t looking at
me, probably his battries had died, I thought and carried on a little, singing the tune
I’d been making up as I went along and was repeating as I ran out of ideas, probably
a bit differently each time because I can’t sing.
“Thinking he must be getting bored if he was listening and becoming a bit self-
conscious because from the glance or two I took it looked like he was, the usual look
of musical concentration being present on his face, I stopped singing thinking he
would go back to his music.
“But he didn’t. He began watching me instead. At first I quite liked it- I mean, it’s
always nice for someone to notice you. And it was especially nice to be getting the
attention of a guy who never seemed to notice anyone at all; ever. Plus I didn’t think
he was bad looking or anything so I smiled a happy little smile at the situation while
enjoying one of the farm’s supreme strawberries.
“Then he kept on watching, his expression changing until he started to resemble a
salivating dog- his mouth open and his tongue almost hanging out! He looked like a
dopey idiot- a moron, actually, if I’m honest.
“Before too long it felt like he was boring two holes through my head and he was
making me feel the same way those other lads had- like I was a cheap commodity
that he was simply picturing naked and that that was all he cared for. And I’d been
hoping he was better than that.
“Quickly it got to a point where I had to say something.”
*
“Can I help you with anything?” Jane asked in her best stern lady voice.
Bill was taken aback, thinking, as so many guys had before while girl-watching, that
she had not seen what he was doing. Somewhere within his head Bill decided to
just deflect attention to her wrong-doing and asked, “Wouldn’t you rather have those
with cream?” while gesturing to a strawberry she had picked but not placed in a
punnet or her mouth.
And then he winked. A very quick wink, hardly noticeable in fact. He wasn’t sure
why and he would have started to panic but the deflection seemed to be working
as she was answering his question, even if her voice was still a bit curt, “I’m not
bothered. It’s enough of a treat to be eating them straight off the plant. And,
anyway, I like them with nothing on. No cream or sugar required, thank you.”
Then silence. Neither were sure what to do or say. The still summer day
surrounded them and seemed to suffocate where, shortly before, it had breathed life
into them both. Individually their minds raced, desperately seeking for something to
say.
Bill hoped Jane wouldn’t remember why she had initially spoken. But now that she
had conversed with this mysterious boy, however, (and about her great love too)
she wasn’t so bothered and would have been happy to chat if he would just say
something. Anything goddamnit. Maybe he hadn’t been worth knowing all along,
maybe he was just as vacant as the other lads working on the farm.
“Yes- they are rather good aren’t they?” Bill lied and he took a large strawberry in his
fingers, removed the stem and popped the entire thing in his mouth.
Jane perked up at this- “Yes! Sooo much better than the tasteless crap they
sell through the winter- this is where it’s at,” she said, gesturing around, “This is
strawberry heaven!”
“Hmmm,” he nodded in agreement, this strawberry tasting better than any he had
previously eaten, the juices pleasantly filling his mouth, surrounding his tongue and
coating it in flavour. Bill swallowed and wondered why he hadn’t been doing this all
along.
“Like summer concentrated into fruit,” he added, unsure quite where that had come
from before seeing her smile and becoming pleased that some sort of inner instinct
had taken over.
“It is! That’s what strawberries are precisely. They are summer, they encapsulate
the season, they’re the perfect accompaniment to a summer’s day, the way nature
intended, a gift from Mother Nature herself,” she rambled very quickly, jumping from
thought to thought while becoming more and more excitable.
And louder too. A distant supervisor yelled at them to get back to work and the pair,
looking a little sheepish, did so, occasionally glancing up at one another as they went
about the work that had unexpectedly brought them together, smiling in unison when
they did so.
*
“It was Bill that started it. I thought he might go back to his music but he began to
hum a song that was in the charts at the time. Which surprised me as he seemed
like someone who would take no notice of the charts and popular music.”
“I’m not sure exactly where I’d heard it- probably an advert. I certainly didn’t know
who it was by. The tune just popped into my head and I started to hum it. She
smiled her lovely broad smile and joined in.”
“I did. And we whiled away the afternoon singing different pop tunes together as we
picked strawberries, treating ourselves to one every so often.”
“Then we chatted on the way home and got to know each other a bit, didn’t we?”
“Yes. And that was the start of our first summer together.”
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